


i used to blame it on the queens walking down 7th avenue

by fantasy_spoilers8



Series: sight of the sun [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asexual John Laurens, Bisexual Eliza Schuyler, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Ear Piercings, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Miscommunication, Misgendering, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Nonbinary Marquis de Lafayette, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shopping, Sort Of, Trans Alexander Hamilton, Trans Male Character, pretty boy john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-03 21:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17291990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasy_spoilers8/pseuds/fantasy_spoilers8
Summary: Lafayette is getting really, really tired of the lovesick looks John and Alex keep shooting each other. But more importantly, Lafayette knows there's something going on with John, and they're determined to help him.-Or, the one where angsty pining ensues, and John slowly sheds the toxic ideas his father drilled into him, one by one.





	1. Guilty as Charged

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in October of John and Alex's sophomore year of college. 
> 
> Some background:  
> -Both Lafayette and Alex are not out to John (so Lafayette gets misgendered)  
> -Alex had top surgery pretty recently  
> -John is dating Martha Manning  
>   
> Enjoy!!
> 
> (I promise, this fic won't be all pain. But there has to be some :D)
> 
> Each chapter title denotes the song that the chapter is inspired by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: homophobic slur

John had finally finished his pre-law classes for the day, and he was _exhausted._

Sure, it was only around one o’clock. But John had spent every single second since he woke up staring at his watch, silently willing the minutes to pass faster. All he wanted to do was lay around his room and finish some drawings he had started. Was that too much to ask? It wasn’t like he had any other time to do what he really enjoyed.

Just as he stepped into his room, there was a sharp knock at the door.

“Mon ami!” a voice called. “It is your favorite person!”

John cracked a smile. He opened the door and barely got to glance at Lafayette before he barged into the dorm, Alexander in tow.

“Bonne journée, John Laurens!” Lafayette said with a beaming smile. “It’s a marvelous day, is it not?”

John couldn’t help but grin at Lafayette’s over-enthusiasm.

“Hey Laf,” he said.

Lafayette kept jabbering away as he made himself at home on Burr’s empty bed, but John didn’t hear a word. All he could see was Alexander.

Alexander was wearing his oversized, bottle green _NO PARE, SIGUE SIGUE_ sweatshirt. His hands were hidden inside large sweater paws, and that absolutely did _not_ make John’s heart melt.

Alexander’s lips were pulled up into a small smile. John realized, his mouth hanging open slightly, that Alexander’s top lip was a slightly darker pink than the bottom. His lips were just slightly chapped, but John was sure they’d be really, really soft if he just leaned in and-

“Hey, John,” Alex said, brushing his hair behind his ear and staring intently at John’s feet.

John blinked. “Hi- hey. Hey, Alex.”

John went back over to his own bed and sat down, blanket cocoon forgotten.

Lafayette raised a groomed eyebrow. John scratched the back of his neck and looked away, feeling extremely self-conscious under Lafayette’s piercing gaze.

Lafayette turned to Alexander and asked him something in French. John didn’t know what it was, but Lafayette’s tone was flat, and he sounded very unimpressed.

Alexander’s face tinged pink. He started to speak quickly to Lafayette, sounding much angrier than Lafayette had been.

John couldn’t help but feel a little slighted. Why had the two of them barged in here to see John when they only wanted to talk to each other in a language John couldn’t understand?

Lafayette looked indignant when Alexander finished speaking, and he shot something back.

Alexander glanced at John as if to see if he understood what was going on, but John was completely confused. He knew Spanish, but the similarity between the two languages only went so far.

“Is everything ok?” John asked, his eyes darting between the two of them.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Alexander replied, shooting Lafayette a nasty look. “Laf’s just being an idiot.”

Lafayette muttered something under his breath in what sounded like a disbelieving tone.

Alexander walked over and smacked him on the arm with his sweater paw. He said something else in French that John couldn’t hear.

“You two done?” John asked, trying not to sound too cranky.

Alexander glanced at John apologetically. Lafayette put a hand on his arm, but Alexander slapped it away.

Lafayette threw up his hands in apparent surrender. “Fine, fine! Let us talk of other things.”

Lafayette threw himself down onto Burr’s bed, which groaned painfully under his weight. Alexander looked like he was about to sit next to Lafayette, but he spread out his limbs like a starfish so Alexander would have no room.

“You can sit over here,” John said, hastily moving his books to the floor. “I don’t mind.”

Alexander fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “Are you sure? I don’t mind, I can get Laf to move-”

“No, really, it’s fine.”

John tried smile as brightly as he could muster. It seemed to work, because the tension in Alexander’s expression relaxed. He tentatively sat down next to John, a good foot and a half distance between them.

The three of them sat in silence for what must have been only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity to John.

“So what’d Burr do today?” John asked.

Alexander squared his shoulders, obviously grateful for the excuse to break the silence. His whole face lit up when he began to speak, and John forced himself to look away..

“So the two of us were in the CJ 301 class this morning, right? And all of a sudden the prof is like, ‘we’re going to do a mock trial!’ So of course all I can think about is all the different ways I can make Jefferson wish he was never born, but then he’s like, ‘I’m assigning partners!’ And I think, ok, the dude’s not stupid enough to pair me with Jeffershit again, and he’s _definitely_ not going to make me work with _the opinionless wonder._ But nope, I was wrong, because all of a sudden he goes and…”

John reached down to the floor to grab his sketchbook and his pack of charcoal pencils, nodding and _mmhmm_ ing every time Alex stopped for breath.

He turned to the page full of softshell turtles that he’d been meticulously working on for the past week or so. He’d almost gotten the shell pattern of the _Apalone spinifera_ just right.

He lost himself in the shading for a while, doing his best to remember the turtle from memory. All of a sudden, a dark mass of fabric came flying at him, hitting him in the face and knocking the sketchbook from his hands.

“Hey!”

He pulled the thing off his face to see Lafayette hanging upside down over the side of Burr’s bed, grinning at him and missing his sweatshirt.

“What was that for?”

“Just to get your attention, mon chou.”

John squinted at him suspiciously. “I may not know much French, but doesn’t that mean ‘my cabbage’?”

“So? You Americans say things like ‘pumpkin’ all the time!”

John looked down at his sketchbook lying on the bedspread. He groaned when he realized there was a harsh line drawn straight through his turtle’s shell.

“You made me ruin my turtle!”

Lafayette only grinned. “Come on. You can draw another one, this is much more important.”

“Give me a second,” John said, trying to brush away the charcoal with his finger. “I have to fix him now.”

“I want to ask you something.”

“Yeah, sure, in a minute or two.”

“Come on, John-” Quick as a whip, Lafayette reached out to take the sketchbook out of John’s hands, and time slowed.

John reflexively jerked back, letting out an inhuman sounding yelp. His elbow went crashing into Alexander’s side, knocking him from the bed. John’s head slammed into the wall behind him, and he saw stars.

 _“Merde!”_ Lafayette shouted.

John blinked a few times, hard. He sat back up slowly, rubbing the back of his head.

John looked down to see Alexander sprawled on the floor. He drew himself up into a sitting position, wincing and clutching the side of his chest.

”Mon dieu, I am so sorry, are you alright, John? Alexander?”

”Yeah, I’m fine,” John said.

“Yeah,” Alexander added. “I just-” He hissed sharply. _“Hijo de puta-”_

In a flash, Lafayette was on the floor next to him. “Petit lion, is it the-”

“Fine!” Alexander said, a bit too loudly. “Seriously, Laf, I’m fine. Don’t- just don’t worry about it?”

“Are you really ok?” John asked. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Seriously,” Alexander said, eyes locking with John’s. “I’m totally ok. Laf’s just a drama queen.”

John nodded hurriedly. He reached down to grip Alexander’s arm and helped him back up.

Once Alexander was standing, he and Lafayette stared at John like he was a small, frightened animal they wanted to calm down. John’s mouth suddenly went dry.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I was just surprised, that’s all, I didn’t mean to jerk away like that.”

“It is fine,” Lafayette said, a forced looking smile on his face. “I needed a good surprise to wake me up, it’s been a long day.”

Thankful for the blatant lie, John sat back down on the bed and grabbed his stuff. He put the sketchbook and pencils back in the drawer of his nightstand where they belonged.

“So what was so important?” John said, despising the tension.

Lafayette, bless him, let John get away with ignoring the elephant in the room. He sat back onto Burr’s bed, and Alexander sat back next to John.

“I was just telling Alexander that I absolutely _must_ go shopping for new dresses,” Lafayette said.

Well.

John was eternally grateful for the change in subject, but that was not what he was expecting Lafayette to say.

“...What does this have to do with me?”

“I was just saying that it would be great if you came shopping with us, mon ami. It will be so much fun- I haven’t been shopping in _ages._ ”

Alexander laughed, and John felt the tension drain from his muscles. “Laf, you went last week.”

Lafayette spluttered. “But I didn’t buy anything of _value._ Adrienne told me the other day that I need to go and buy some nice dresses at once or she’ll- she’ll beat the shit out of me.”

John managed a laugh at Lafayette’s antics, his mind whirring.

Adrienne must be Lafayette’s girlfriend. Why hadn’t John met her, or even heard about her before? Lafayette seemed like the type of person who would boast about his girlfriend to the world.

More importantly, was this a capital-t Thing that people usually did for their girlfriends? Mattie certainly hadn’t asked John to buy her any dresses yet.

“Just ask Herc to make you a dress,” Alexander said. “It’d probably be nicer than whatever shit you get at the store, and Herc won’t charge you a lot. Why does Adrienne care, anyway?”

Lafayette sighed. “Since her birthday is coming up, she says the least I can do for her is buy a dress that doesn’t fall apart after one month. She always has something to say about the ones that I buy. I am perfectly happy with them, of course, but she has this idea in her head that I should only get the best.”

“She sounds really picky,” John said, narrowing his eyebrows.

Lafayette shrugged, a soft smile on his face. “She cares about me.”

John repressed a shudder. He felt more than a little grossed out by the idea of Adrienne wearing fancy dresses not because she liked them, but because it made Lafayette happy.

“Come shopping with us, mon ami. It’ll be fun. What else are you doing?”

John laughed nervously. This was definitely a Thing, shopping for your girlfriend. Did John really have any choice but to play along?

“Yeah, I’ll go.” John said.

Before he could stop himself, he added, “But Alex, you’re coming too, right?”

Alexander shrugged and nodded, the picture of nonchalance. “Why not? I could use some new notebooks.”

John grinned at him. A smile slowly unfurled onto Alexander’s lips, bright as the sun, and John felt a fist clench over his heart.

He was broken out of his stupor when Lafayette clapped his hands, glancing between the two of them. _“Merveilleux.”_

John swallowed nervously. Had Lafayette seen how he was looking at Alexander?

_You have to let everyone know you’re a flaming faggot, don’t you?_

John’s arm started to itch.

“Only- only because I want to get Mattie something for her birthday,” John lied.

Lafayette’s smile faltered and he glanced quickly at Alexander. But when John turned back to look at him, Alexander’s face was a mask of contentment.

“Sounds good,” Alexander said, averting his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Alexander pushed past John and went out into the hallway. John helplessly watched him go.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he heard Lafayette’s voice say, “but isn’t Martha’s birthday in December?”

John blanched. “I, um- I meant- I’m going to get her one early?”

  
Lafayette nodded slowly. He looked a little bit _too_ understanding. “Oui, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? The next chapter is in the works, and don't worry, we'll get to the dresses very soon! Any and all comments and kudos will be super duper appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	2. This Side of Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ear piercings, dresses, and pasta- oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guESS WHO FINALLY UPDATED! Enjoy!
> 
> (I just realized this is like 2.5x the length of the other chapters, which is waaaay longer than I intended?? Whoops)

_Pink._

_A blush pink. Like the kind that coats silk curtains. That bursts out of powder puffs. The kind tingeing the edges of a sunrise. Sugar crystals woven into delicate strands of fluff at a street fair. Lips pulled into small smiles across a room full of people, but only holding the two of you. The delicate, tiny “whoa.”_

_Fireworks._

_Rushes of spiky, sharp adrenaline. Shudders running up your spine and out your arms. Shocks of electricity every time the barest hint of his skin touches yours. Having the breath stolen from your lungs. Warmth spreading through your whole chest, so powerful and bright you feel like your feet are going to lift an inch or two off the ground from the joy of it. Knowing it might hurt you, but not giving a damn as long as you get to feel like this for just a little longer. The inescapable, gigantic “whoa.”_

_It’s wonderful. And the most painful thing in the world._

_You love him so much you feel like it’s going to burst out of your ears. Where does all that pressure go if it isn’t satisfied? If it gets too great, you’re sure that something’s going to break. Will you lose your mind if you keep preventing yourself from being with him? Will you damage something inside him if you tell him the great secret of how you feel? What if your relationship, the platonic relationship you have, what if that shatters beyond repair?_

_Will it shatter from the relief of your action finally taking place? Or will you wait, only to see it shatter anyway from the ever-growing tension of your inaction?_

_What if you do confess? What happens in that great abyss of the unknown? What happens if your love feels the same, if I’m given that infinite gift of happiness, but he leaves me in the end, just like everyone with a choice always chooses to leave?_

_What then? What the everloving fuck will I do then? What if-_

Alexander forced himself to stop writing. He hastily deleted the last few sentences he’d typed into google docs. Future Alexander had enough to worry about.

He stuck his phone under his thigh and leaned back in his seat, his eyes on the steadily lowering sun outside the car window.

What was taking John and Lafayette so long?

He pushed the door open and stuck his head out, glaring at the two of them. They were still standing a good ten feet away, talking in hushed tones.

“Are you guys coming or not?” he snapped. Alexander despised being out of the loop.

“Oui! Sorry, petit lion.”

Lafayette bounded over to the car and threw themself into the driver’s seat. John stood there on the pavement for another moment, shell-shocked.

Alexander pulled himself forward so he could glare at Lafayette.

“What the hell did you say to him?” Alexander hissed.

“Nothing!”

Alexander squinted his eyes at them. Lafayette was many things, but they were a terrible liar.

John made his way over to the car and pulled the passenger side door open. He made as if to put his left foot inside the car, and abruptly stopped.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, to no one in particular.

He carefully sat down in the seat, butt first, before pulling his feet inside and shutting the door.

Alexander couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Sorry for what?”

John whipped his head around like he hadn’t realized Alexander was there. “I, uh, I just got in the car wrong, that’s all.”

Alexander exchanged a loaded glance with Lafayette before leaning back into his seat.

Lafayette turned on the car and turned out of the spot. As they started heading down the street, Alexander spied their hand inching toward the aux cord.

“I call dibs on the aux cord!” Alexander cried out, leaping across the divider to grab it before Lafayette could.

“Hey!” Lafayette protested. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole!”

Ignoring them, Alexander plugged his phone into the aux cord and started to scroll through his playlists.

His finger hovered over his collection of Tegan and Sara songs.

It wouldn’t be underhanded to play Tegan and Sara. Would it? It would definitely serve as a pretty foolproof test to see if John was straight or not.

Swallowing down his feelings of guilt, Alexander pressed shuffle on _Heartthrob._

 _Love They Say_ began to play softly over the speakers.

_The first time I saw your face I knew I was meant for you..._

_“That’s_ what you’re listening to?” John asked. Alexander couldn’t see his face, but the scowl was evident in the tone of his voice.

Alexander tried not to feel too disappointed. It didn’t work.

“Yeah, why?” he asked in a small voice.

“Well, you know,” John said, looking visibly more uncomfortable with every passing second.

_Love, they say it heals all wounds_

_Love removes the hurt in you_ _  
_ _Love, I know that this is true…_

“What?” Alexander pressed.

“They’re _girls.”_

Alexander immediately felt the argument rising up in his throat, but something told him to hold back. There was no real heat behind John’s words; it was like he was confused.

_You don’t have to wonder_

_If love will make us stronger_

_There’s nothing love can’t do…_

Alexander forced his instincts down and smiled. “Yeah. They’re really good.”

John’s bewilderment was tangible.

“Uh, yeah,” John said, his voice stilted, like the words were foreign in his mouth. “I guess they are.”

Alexander squirmed as thick tension filled the air. He searched wildly for a way to change the subject.

“I’m not even in the shotgun seat,” Alexander said to Lafayette. “And you need to quit quoting Supernatural, it’s making you sound like the literal embodiment of tumblr.”

“Quoi?”

“What you said before, about the driver picking the music? You sounded like the literal embodiment of tumblr.”

Lafayette paused for a moment. But they seemed to realize what Alexander was trying to do, and thankfully played along.

“I _am_ the literal embod- _version vivante_ of tumblr! I claim it as my own,” they said, squinting at the road in lieu of glaring at Alexander.

“You’re the literal embodiment of _aesthetic_ tumblr, with flowers and acrylic nails and glitter and shit,” Alexander said. “You’re in _one_ fandom. You don’t know half of what goes on in fandom tumblr. It’s a chaotic, beautiful dystopia where half the people don't know what's happening and the other half that do wish they didn't. It’s a deep, dark abyss full of intelligent, philosophical people who-”

“Petit lion, you’re emo and bitter. We understand.”

Alexander huffed.

“John,” he whined, “please save me from this unjustifiable slander.”

_Come on. Let me have this._

John slowly turned to look at him, and Alexander’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t realized how close they were. He felt color rise onto his cheeks, and quickly leaned back into his seat.

It took him much longer than it should have to tear his eyes away from the curls framing John’s face and how soft they looked. He could just reach out and-

_No._

He forced himself to focus on John’s expression. John’s eyes were wide, his mouth agape slightly. He was looking at Alexander like he had two heads.

Alexander twisted his hands in his lap self-consciously.

“What?” Alexander asked, proud of how steady his voice sounded.

“What’s _tumblr?”_ John asked, his voice hushed like he was saying a bad word.

Alexander’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he felt a wicked grin begin to spread across his face. This was going to be fun.

 

* * *

 

John had tried to shake the effect of Lafayette’s words the entire car ride. It hadn’t worked.

Lafayette had stopped him on the sidewalk before the three of them got into the car. Alexander had gone bounding ahead, completely oblivious.

“John, can I ask you something?”

John had furrowed his brow, confused. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

Lafayette had glanced furtively toward the car.

“Are you sure that Martha Manning is a good match for you, chèri?” he had asked in a low voice.

John had felt all the blood drain from his face. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

Lafayette had shrugged noncommittally, but John saw him glance at the car again. “Just…John, you must understand, the way you look at Alexander sometimes…”

John had taken an involuntary step backward into the street, a hair’s breadth away from a truck that came zooming past.

Lafayette had grabbed his arm and jerked him forward, away from the incoming traffic.

Lafayette’s mouth was moving, but all John could feel was his hand on his arm like a brand. John felt his body automatically go into emergency mode. He yanked his arm out of Lafayette’s grip and ignored whatever Lafayette was saying- he couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in his ears, anyway.

He had all but run toward the car once he managed to get his feet to move, dutifully averting his eyes from Lafayette’s gaze the whole car ride.

Now, they were walking into the mall and John had absolutely no idea what to do with his hands. Or feet. Or any other body part, for that matter.

Lafayette was talking about something. John vaguely registered it as having something to do with...a list of places to go? That must have been it.

John’s eyes wandered of their own accord to a store on the left, where he squinted against the bright lights.

A sign in the window said “BUY THREE GET THREE FREE!” above a picture of rail-thin white girls covered in bangles.

But what caught John’s eye was the other sign: “GET ONE EAR PIERCING, GET ONE FREE!”

“What are you looking at?”

John nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned to look and saw Alexander smiling at him sheepishly. “Sorry. But what _were_ you looking at? You seemed kinda out of it.”

“Oh, just, um…” John gestured vaguely in the direction of the store.

“ _Claire’s?_ ” Lafayette exclaimed. He started shielding his eyes from the store with his hands. “Both of you, keep me away from there!”

John stuck his hands in his pockets and directed his gaze to his feet.

_Are you honestly surprised that he hates it? Real men know better than to get anywhere near all of that crap._

“Yeah, of course,” John said despondently.

“They have the three for three sale today,” Lafayette continued, “and if I go inside I will end up wasting _all_ of my money on earrings.”

John froze. “Wait, what?”

He vaguely registered Alexander’s eyes widening in alarm out of the corner of his eye.

Lafayette seemed completely unperturbed. “Oui. Their earrings are quite wonderful.” He pushed his hair behind his ear and John noticed the two small studs he had there, pastel-colored and shaped like flowers.

John swallowed nervously. “But…”

“What?” Lafayette asked. His eyes had too much of a gleam in them to be genuinely confused.

John tried not to squirm. “Boys don’t have pierced ears. You just don’t do it. It’s one of those things.”

Lafayette smiled, making John feel even more uncomfortable. He felt his fists clench involuntarily again. Was Lafayette making fun of him?

“Of course boys have ear piercings, mon chou,” he said. “Alexander does.”

Alexander’s eyes shot to Lafayette’s. What was that expression on his face? John searched for a word that matched Alexander’s clenched jaw, his heaving chest, his wide eyes burning with _something…_

John felt his fists uncurl as he realized that Alexander looked afraid.

Every instinct inside him was screaming at him to say something mean to protect himself. He knew what to say, too. It was like some terrible gift he couldn’t get rid of; he knew exactly how to bring a person to their knees.

No more. He refused.

“Hey,” John started, his voice stilted.

Alexander glanced around his face, refusing to make eye contact.

He swallowed nervously.

Fighting, he knew. Making people think he was something he wasn’t, he could do that just fine. But talking to someone? Calming them down? Making them feel safe and accepted? John wasn’t sure if those kinds of words existed in real life, much less if he had the ability to say them.

“I, uh…”

_Great start, dumbass._

“It’s not like I...give a shit if you- if you have pierced ears or not,” he said. “Either of you. I just, um, I definitely wouldn’t want to do it myself. Definitely not. At all.”

Lafayette straightened, like he had suddenly gotten an idea. “All this talk about earrings has given me a sudden impulse to get another piercing. Would you come with me?”

John blinked. “Um, sure.”

Lafayette turned to Alexander. “They have a great moleskine place somewhere on this floor. Why don’t you go get your notebooks while John and I go to Claire’s? I know it is not your thing.”

Alexander took a breath like he was going to argue, but Lafayette had already grabbed John’s arm and started to pull him toward the store. “Wonderful. Merci, petit lion!”

John turned his head to see Alexander watching them go, an apprehensive expression on his face.

Was there something else going on?

Lafayette pushed the door open, and John was suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of _stuff._

Mirrors lined the ceiling. Racks chock full of row after row of earrings and rings and headbands blocked their path. Pop music was playing over the speakers- was that Justin Bieber?

Lafayette dodged all the racks expertly, pulling John behind him. They finally reached the counter, and Lafayette started speaking quickly to the cashier. John was mesmerized by the sheer amount of makeup the woman had on her face. How the hell had she managed to make her eyeliner that symmetrical? Or her lashes that long? Whenever John had tried to do it, stealing Patsy’s eyeliner and putting it on in the middle of the night, it always ended up looking a lot more like his face was covered in ashes than makeup-

Lafayette’s grip on his arm tightened slightly, and he flinched away.

 _“Merveilleux!”_ Lafayette said, apparently pleased with something the cashier had said.

“This way,” Lafayette said, leading John back towards the front of the store.

They reached a closed-off section with a tall chair and a cabinet full of drawers. Lafayette started to look through the little book on top of the cabinet, where John supposed they must have had the different kinds of earrings listed.

A different woman with equally intimidating eyeliner began to walk over to the two of them, hoisting a menacing looking white gun.

John felt like his eyes were going to bug out of his head. “Laf, what the hell is that?”

“Hmm?” Lafayette turned around to look. “Oh, that is the, eh, ear piercing device.”

“The _what?”_

“Oui, the woman holds it up to your ear and the machine presses the earring through. It is very simple, you will see when I do it.” Lafayette then said something in French.

John opened his mouth and closed it again, momentarily stunned silent by the French. Something else Lafayette said finally registered in his mind. Why had Lafayette emphasized _“I”?_

The woman reached them.

“Have you picked out one you like yet?” she asked John.

John shook his head violently, his eyes unable to stray from the gun. “It’s not for me!”

“Oui, it is for me,” Lafayette said, smiling slightly. “I think the rose gold balls will do nicely. I would just like a third on my right ear.”

He hopped up into the chair and began to tie his hair back. “Do you have any deals today?”

“Oh, yeah,” the woman said. “Didn’t you see? You get one piercing, you get another free.”

 _“Really?”_ Lafayette asked, a grin pulling at his lips.

Why did John feel like Lafayette wasn’t shocked at all?

“Well, we must take advantage of that,” Lafayette said, before saying that French thing again.

John blinked as he realized the French term was somehow Lafayette’s word for him. What the hell was a morn-tuff-too?

“Ok,” John said, confused as to what this had to do with him. “So you’ll get a third earring on both.”

Lafayette scoffed, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I could not possibly. That would be much too mainstream.”

Lafayette looked right at John. “Would you like one instead?”

John felt strangely vindicated. He _knew_ Lafayette didn’t want to get his ears pierced, that there was something else going on.

A faint voice snagged in his head. What if...what if this entire thing was an elaborate ploy, meant to get John to admit he wanted his ears pierced?

No, surely Lafayette wasn’t that cruel. Surely.

The argument sounded weak even inside his own head.

“What are you playing at?” John asked him in a low voice.

Lafayette let the façade drop. The smile slipped off his face, and he let his shoulders relax. He studied John with a kind of scientific fascination, like he was trying to figure out what made him tick.

“I thought you might want to do this with me,” Lafayette said. “It’s fine if you don’t. But I’d love it.”

John found himself glancing out the store’s windows, even though he knew there was no chance a certain someone could be here.

He chewed at his lip. “Seriously?”

Lafayette nodded fervently, his eyes flitting between each of John’s own.

Why _couldn’t_ he let himself have this? His muscles screaming at him to stop, John tapped into a reserve of strength he didn’t know he had and turned to look at the earring catalog.

He’d probably regret this. But why the hell shouldn’t he at least try, for once in his life?

 

* * *

 

“That’ll be $49.15.”

Alexander froze. “Are you sure?”

The woman nodded impatiently.

“For _three_ notebooks?”

“Yes, sir,” she said in a monotone voice. “Each one is $14.95, plus tax.”

Alexander sighed. There was no way he could afford this.

“Ok, just…” he pushed two of the notebooks away, leaving just the one wrapped in mottled green faux leather. “Just this one.”

He dug a few crumpled bills out of his wallet and handed them to the woman. He grabbed his bag and stalked out, not bothering to take the receipt.

Why did everyone need to be such a money-hungry asshole? Ok, to be fair, the woman at the cash register probably didn’t set any of the prices. But Alexander didn’t have another image to be angry with, so she would have to do.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Alexander pulled it out and saw he had a message from Lafayette.

 _(2:13 PM) french fucker:_ Meet us in Diane von Furstenberg, petit lion. John has something to show you ;D

 _(2:13 PM) You:_ the winky eyes? Srsly?

 _(2:13 PM) french fucker:_ Trust me, it is highly fitting to the current situation.

 _(2:14 PM) You:_ wdym?

 _(2:15 PM) You:_ Laf????

Alexander sighed. He loved them to pieces, but Lafayette could be a gigantic pain in the ass.

He stepped onto the escalator to get down to the first floor where Diane von Furstenberg was. Nonsensical phrases rattled around in his head.

_Headfirst into the abyss…_

He shook his head to clear it. Where had _that_ come from?

Alexander made his way to the dress store, humming _Love They Say_ under his breath.

A burly man in a suit, leagues taller than Alexander, moved to open the glass door when he saw him approaching. He waved him off.

“Thanks, I got it,” he said, trying to shoot the man a smile that didn’t look like a grimace.

It was a relatively small shop. Alexander had been dragged here so many times by Lafayette that he knew virtually every nook and cranny by heart.

As soon as you walked in, there was a staircase leading to nowhere. Red and blue rectangular pillows were strewn randomly on the steps, and phrases were written on their vertical sides in white font: “#INCHARGE,” “I have never met a woman who is not strong.”

Alexander winced. Did they seriously have no one to tell them that was grammatically incorrect?

For a designer store, it was pretty deserted. Alexander ambled around until he found the corner with the soft armchairs, and promptly curled up into the closest one like a cat.

He opened his new notebook at the middle and pressed it to his face, inhaling deeply. There was nothing like the smell of a new book.

“Are you smelling paper again, mon chou?”

Alexander dropped the notebook into his lap with a scowl. “It’s the new notebook. It smells amazing.”

Lafayette nodded placatingly. “Oh, yes, I’m sure it does.”

Alexander opened his mouth to shoot back a retort, but the words died in his mouth as John stepped into view.

John had his hair pulled up and away from his face into a chignon at the top of his head. He had a very thin black choker around his neck; Alexander thought he might choke when he saw that there was a tiny black bow on the front of it. His eyes traveled upward, and he gasped slightly as he realized that in each slightly red earlobe, John had two tiny golden ball bearings. You wouldn’t notice them unless you were looking. And Alexander was definitely, definitely looking.

John smiled nervously, the freckles on his cheeks crinkling together as his dimples formed.

Alexander felt his heat melt into a puddle of goo. How was he supposed to function normally around this literal angel from heaven?

Lafayette reached out and closed Alexander’s mouth. Alexander jumped back slightly; he hadn’t realized it was open.

“You, uh,” Alexander scratched the back of his neck, his eyes on John’s shoes. He could feel his face pulsing with heat. “You look really great. Really great. Stupendous. Wonderful. Amaz-”

“Thanks,” John said in a quiet voice.

Alexander bit his lip to stop himself from smiling too much.

Lafayette clapped their hands excitedly, glancing between Alexander and John. “Now, we must do what we came here in the first place to do.”

The smile slid off of John’s face.

Alexander felt the childish part of his brain began to chant _no no come back come back come back-_

“Right,” John said. “You wanna buy a dress for your girlfriend.”

Lafayette choked on their own spit, and coughed so hard they doubled over. John slapped them on the back, and they quieted down.

Alexander looked between the both of them confusedly before he realized. John thought Adrienne was Lafayette’s girlfriend? Jesus fuck, this was a mess.

 _“Non!”_ Lafayette said, slicing one hand through the air. “Non, non, John, for myself! Why on earth did you think I was buying a dress for a girlfriend that I do not have?”

John blanched. “You mean-”

“Yes, yes, mon tortue, I am here because Adrienne will not leave me alone about the crappy dresses I keep wearing!”

John looked to Alexander, his eyes filled with alarm.

Alexander felt his muscles tense.

 _God,_ he thought, _if you exist, please, please don’t make me have to fight John._

John collapsed into the armchair next to Alexander, his head in his hands. “Ok, hold up. I feel like I’m completely out of the loop. You’re a drag queen?”

Alexander and Lafayette exchanged a look. Alex tried to silently beg Lafayette not to let this escalate too far. Lafayette nodded, seemingly understanding what he meant.

“No,” Lafayette said slowly. “They just, eh, do things differently in France?”

Alexander’s eyebrows shot up. There’s no way Lafayette actually thought John was going to believe that.

But John was nodding, looking like he was hit with the revelation of the century. Alexander suppressed a groan. How far was this going to go?

“Oh,” John said. “Ok then.”

_What?_

How the fuck could John believe that load of crap?

Alexander’s heart sank as he realized. Could it be that John was so desperate to pretend like everything was “normal” that he would take any excuse he could get? But if that was true, could that mean that John was...

“Right, Alexander?”

Alexander’s eyes shot to Lafayette, who was sporting a forced smile.

Alexander swallowed nervously. “Um...uh huh.”

John relaxed, a grin on his face. Alexander wondered vaguely if he was losing his mind. “Ok, so sure. Let’s get a good one.”

A real smile spread across Lafayette’s face, and they sped off toward the racks of dresses, John close behind them.

“Mon petit lion, allons-y!” Lafayette called over their shoulder.

“I should stay in this chair,” Alexander said to himself. “I should stay in this nice, comfortable, wonderful chair, and not get involved. I should not, _definitely_ not get involved. This is way too fucked up. Just stay here, and leave Laf to their shenanigans.”

His conscience got the better of him, and he bolted off into the direction John and Lafayette had gone. 

 

* * *

 

Lafayette nudged his arm. “Did you see that?”

Alexander rubbed his hands over his face. “What, Laf?”

Lafayette nudged his arm again. “Look.”

“What? What do you want me to-”

“That.”

“...Oh.”

John was about ten feet away, by a rack of wrap dresses. He was holding the fabric of one between his fingers, skimming his hands over the silk almost reverently. After a few seconds, he dropped it suddenly, his whole body jolting back like he’d been shocked.

Lafayette turned to Alexander abruptly. “What’s his shirt size?”

This day was just getting steadily weirder. “What?”

“John’s shirt size,” Lafayette said slowly, like Alexander was being stupid. “And also, how tall is he?”

“Laf, why do you think I know that?”

Lafayette looked at him reproachfully.

Alexander sighed. He might have been just slightly obsessed with John. Just a smidge! And to be fair, information did stick in his head whether he wanted it to or not. “He’s 5’9”, and his shirts are usually mediums, even though he can fit into the smalls. He likes the sweater paws.”

Lafayette grinned. “Thank you, mon chou. Do you think you can keep John occupied for a bit?”

Alexander’s confusion only grew. “Laf, what-”

But Lafayette was already walking away.

“Laf!” Alexander hissed. “Don’t leave me alone with- oh, hey John!”

John had crept up behind Alexander while he wasn’t looking. He was standing less than a foot away, and Alexander became hyper-aware of every inch between them.

“Hey,” John said, twisting his fingers together. “Where’s Lafayette?”

“Oh, th- he just went to get...something.”

John nodded. “Right, yeah…”

Alexander bit his lip, and John’s eyes shot to the movement.

No. Alexander must have been imagining that. There was absolutely, positively no _way._

The universe was never that kind.

 

* * *

 

When Lafayette got to their apartment, they dropped their armfuls of bags onto their bed.

They glanced over their shoulder. John and Alexander were busy being absolutely-not-in-love in the living room, so they probably wouldn’t be interrupted.

They placed the bags of dresses they bought for themself in the closet, keeping the bag of the dresses they bought for John out in the open. They took the first one, a silk wrap dappled with turquoise and orange, and laid it out onto the bed. The second dress was an asymmetrical floral wrap, with a creamy blue background interspersed with delicate orange roses. The final dress was a flowing burgundy maxi dress, with layered long sleeves to provide the “paw of the sweater” feel.

They carefully placed the remaining dresses out on their bed before heading out into the living room, leaving their bedroom door casually open. 

 

* * *

 

“I’m going to go wash the dishes,” Lafayette said.

It was late into the night, but Alexander and John had stayed over at their insistence. They were all watching reruns of _The Good Wife,_ sprawled on Lafayette’s couch.

“I’ll alert the media,” Alexander drawled, hanging upside down off the couch.

John scrambled up from where he had been curled up next to Alexander. “You want some help? I don’t mind at all-”

Lafayette waved him down. “Please, mon tortue, I enjoy it.”

John reluctantly curled back up onto the couch, his and Alexander’s fingers brushing faintly.

Honestly. When were these boys going to pull their heads out of their asses?

Lafayette gathered up the bowls scraped free of the Pasta Bolognese Alexander had made and carried them into the kitchen.

They made sure to turn the water as high as it could go, so it would make a very loud noise. They started to scrub at the bowls as slowly as possible, listening intently to hear what happened in the living room.

After a few minutes, John piped up. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“Have fun,” Alexander said.

Lafayette heard John’s footsteps head toward their bedroom, and grinned.

They left the water running and tiptoed back to the living room.

Alexander was sitting up, his face in his hands. “Fuck, why the fuck did I say that? That was so fucking awkward...”

Lafayette resisted the urge to snort.

They crept down the hallway and stopped just in front of their own bedroom, peeking through the door.

Sure enough, John had donned the turquoise and orange wrap.

Lafayette watched as John smoothed the skirt down, his eyes wide with wonder. He raised his gaze to his reflection in the mirror and slowly drew himself up to his full height, jutting his chin out and puffing up his chest. He let out a small, delighted laugh, and twisted around to see the dress from the back.

“Do you like it?” Lafayette asked quietly, not wanting to startle him.

John’s eyes widened. He didn’t turn around at first, like he was hoping Lafayette wasn’t really there.

“It’s ok, John.”

John turned slowly to face them. He angled his whole body toward Lafayette, spreading his feet and leaning up off his heels. He straightened his back and tucked his chin down, raising his elbows on either side like he was getting ready for a punch. Lafayette couldn’t help but think that he looked less like a coiled spring and more like a little kid, terrified out of his mind.

It took all of Lafayette’s self control to stay where they were instead of rushing forward and wrapping John in a crushing hug.

They slowly sat down onto the bed, hyper-aware of John’s hooded eyes tracking every movement.

“Would you like to try some of my makeup as well?” they asked.

John blinked belatedly, the words obviously not registering.

“I have quite a lot,” they continued, “and I hardly ever use at least half of it.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” John growled. “You’ll regret it.”

Lafayette wasn’t sure if they wanted to laugh or cry. John looked the absolute opposite of intimidating. Others would probably have run out of the room at this point, but Lafayette knew exactly what was going on. Alexander had given Lafayette a healthy dosage of terrified, empty threats over the years.

Lafayette’s instinct was to crack a joke, make some sarcastic comment to defuse the situation. But this needed to be addressed. The only way was to show John how serious they were about helping him.

There was no way John would open up. So Lafayette had to.

“When I was around nine years old,” Lafayette began, “my friend Adrienne and I would always switch clothes. She would take the ridiculous suits my parents had tailored for me, and I would take her frilliest dresses. And after a while, she stopped liking the suits, but I never stopped liking the dresses.”

John had relaxed his shoulders at some point while Lafayette was talking, and had let his heels fall back to the ground.

“My parents found out when I was twelve. They said that if I didn’t, how you say, _man up,_ they would send me far away in disgrace so that I might learn my lesson.”

“What did you do?” John asked, his voice hoarse.

“I packed my bags.”

Some indecipherable emotion crossed John’s face.

“I stole a sizable amount from what would have become my inheritance, and snuck onto a boat. The captain refused to take me straight to Manhattan, because he had to deliver his cargo to many places before he went to New York.”

“What happened?” John asked quietly.

Lafayette straightened their legs out on the bed. “I bought all of the cargo myself. And as a member of the French nobility, my face is very recognizable, so I made sure to wear my best dress for the occasion.” They smiled wistfully at the memory. “Well. Adrienne’s best dress.

“Before I left, I snuck a glance into my père’s records. He had been making several calls to a man by the name of Georges Washington, in the famous New York City. That, I figured, was my best bet. I copied down the address and sailed my ship to Manhattan, and I found my way to the Washingtons’ house with the rest of the money I had stuffed in my pockets.”

John hesitantly stepped towards the bed, his thighs flush with the edge. “And they just...let you in?”

Lafayette smiled. “It turns out that my grandmaman had called ahead. Told them I was coming. Said it was all her idea. Georges and Marthe were so pleased to see me, I didn’t tell them the truth until many years afterward.”

John perched carefully on the edge of the bed. “How...how did you work up the courage?”

“To leave France?”

John shook his head. “No, to…”

Lafayette straightened as they realized what John was getting at. “How did I manage to tell the Washingtons the truth?”

John nodded jerkily.

“Well, they found out that I loved dresses very early on. Thought it was just a phase, though.”

John flinched, almost imperceptibly. But Lafayette was watching.

“There’s nothing wrong with phases, John,” they said gently. “No matter if something is permanent or temporary, it’s still real and true for as long as you believe it to be.”

“But in my case,” they continued, “it wasn’t anywhere near being a phase. It was, uh...” they chuckled, remembering how young and immature they’d been to consider themself a cisgender guy.

“Something else,” they finished.

John pursed his lips, playing absentmindedly with the hem of the dress and gazing at the floor. “Could I, uh…”

“What?” Lafayette asked.

“Could I keep this?” John asked, his gaze flitting between Lafayette and the floor.

Lafayette grinned. “I would love nothing more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: That is EXACTLY how historical Lafayette ran away from home and joined the American Revolution. He was seventeen, though.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!! Please comment and tell me what you thought. There will be another update very soon. Hint: It's inspired by Mr. Brightside.


	3. Mr. Brightside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has a bit of a breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who’s ready for aNGST???
> 
> Martha Manning is inspired by this picture of Freema Agyeman (https://goo.gl/images/DHdJCZ)
> 
> Enjoy!!

John tapped his feet impatiently on the linoleum floor.

_Toe toe heel toe. Toe toe heel toe._

He glanced at his watch again. Stubbornly, the second hand had refused to move faster than normal speed. It moved excruciatingly slowly, mocking him with each disproportionately loud tick.

John sat back in his seat, letting a puff of air escape between his teeth.

How much longer was Mattie’s class going to take?

John furrowed his brow in concentration. What was it about again? Child psychology? Welfare? Something to do with social work.

He fished his earbuds out of his bag and began the long task of untangling them. Once he got the final knot undone, he plugged them into his phone and pressed shuffle before dropping his phone into his bag.

The opening riff to Mr. Brightside started playing, and John wrinkled his nose in distaste.

He skipped until he got to what he really wanted to listen to.

_I Take All the Blame [Bonus Track]—— Vivek Shraya, Tegan and Sara Present The Con X: Covers_

John closed his eyes and let the dreamy quality of the song fog his brain.

It didn’t make him stop thinking. There was something else he could do when it became too much for him to handle.

But he couldn’t think about that now.

 

_Grass to my knees_

_Give them hope_

_And new joints_

 

John was waiting in the library for Mattie to meet him so they could go out to lunch. He’d originally planned to meet her outside her class’s building, but had cancelled at the last minute when he found out Alexander’s class was moved there.

It was one thing to be affectionate with her in private. But he knew that if Alexander was there, he’d never be able to manage it.

 

_Bend and lean_

_On me when_

_You feel that_

_Strange dream fill_

_My back_

 

He smiled softly to himself as he remembered Alexander ranting about how much he loved that class, Topics In Political Theory: The Political Ecology of Death. His hands had flapped around everywhere in his excitement as he told John about it, John too enthralled to do anything but nod.

 

_With cold night air through my lungs_

_Limping on two legs again_

_Don’t you think that I’ve been given up?_

_Don’t you think that I’ve been givin’ up?_

 

That line always bothered him. Was it “givin’ up” or “given up”? Was the singer remembering a time when he was given up, abandoned by someone he thought cared about him? Or was the singer going to a much darker place, one where he knew he was running out of steam, running out of willpower to resist giving in to everything he knew he shouldn’t do?

No matter how many times he listened to it, John always heard it as both.

He knew no one else was within eyeshot. But nevertheless, he glanced over his shoulder and tugged his left sleeve down.

That was the one thing about him that he had to make sure he kept secret.

Well. It’s not like there weren’t other things. But he was pretty sure that would cause the most alarm.

No one could know about the dresses he borrowed from Lafayette, stashed between his bed and the wall.

No one could know about a lot of things.

 

_Change_

_I’ll take the blame_

_I’ll take the pain_

_I’ll move_

_Away_

_Away_

 

It wasn’t like he hated Mattie. Not in the slightest. He genuinely enjoyed spending time with her- or at least, he used to. She had been one of his best friends during his senior year of high school.

The both of them had been absolutely overjoyed when they found out they both got accepted to Columbia. Their acceptance letters in one hand and their other hands intertwined, Mattie had looked at him with shining eyes, and he had _known._ He had _known_ there was no way out for him, not this time. He was trapped.

It wasn’t a particularly bad place to be trapped. He loved talking to Mattie, just like he always had. But now, she always took his hand when they were out in public, making his skin itch and prickle and burn. She always sat just slightly too close, making John painfully aware of every inch of distance that _wasn’t_ separating them.

John remembered when he’d first heard the phrase “more than friends.” What does that mean? Mattie had scoffed when he asked her, and told him that it just meant that the people in question were dating. Why was dating something more than friendship? Why did everyone think it was better? John had despised the entire idea. His relationship with Mattie wasn’t _more_ than friendship. It was just…different sometimes.

And that was fine. Not everyone felt a spark of attraction. People sometimes just fell into relationships after being friends for a while. When they started dating, the only really difference John could see was that Mattie smiled a lot more when they were together, and his father called him less and less about _“pursuing proper life goals.”_

He’d convinced himself that there was nothing more to find, nothing more to look forward to. Then, of course, he had met Alexander.

But he couldn’t think about that.

There was still a chance for him. He could still be normal. He just needed to try harder.

John skipped to the next song.

 

_One, two, three, four_

_I imagine you_ _  
_ _Sleeping with computer_

_Light in your hair_

 

He pulled out his phone and texted Mattie.

 _(12:46 PM) You:_ Where are you? I’m waiting in the library like I said.

John heard a loud bang come from somewhere to his left. He took out one earbud and heard a gruff voice begin to curse, presumably at the thing he had dropped.

So John wasn’t as alone as he thought.

He put his earbud back in and texted Mattie again.

 _(12:48 PM) You:_ Mattie??

When she didn’t answer, he leaned his head back and let the music carry him away, his phone clutched in his hand. 

 

 _Do you feel it still?_  
_Do you feel it now?_  
_You can't stop_  
_So, so you stay_ _  
_ _Goddamn story_

  
_I regret_ _  
_ _I regret everything_

 _Circuits in the street_  
_Complicated grid_ _  
_ _Light is spinning wheels_

_Underneath our feet_

_Follow me around u_ _ntil you feel nothing_ _  
__Until you feel nothing_  

_Do you feel it now?_

_Do you feel it still?_

_Feeling nothing, feeling_   _nothing..._

 

John felt a light tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and sat up to see Mattie giving him a small wave.

“Hey,” she said, her lips quirking up into a smile.

“Hey,” John said.

His eyes dropped to her clothes. Mattie had on a long, light brown paisley dress, and a short, washed out denim jacket. He let his eyes linger on the way the jacket hugged the curves of her waist, the dip of the fabric between her legs, the way her curls framed her face.

She smiled wider. “You like what you see?”

Like they were taunting him, he heard Tegan and Sara singing. _Feeling nothing._

He swallowed, forcing the muscles in his face to smile in a way that didn’t look like a grimace.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

Which was true. She always looked beautiful. But John thought she was beautiful like he thought John Bramblitt’s paintings were beautiful, like the sprawling gardens in Central Park, like the stars in the sky whenever he left the city.

Not like Alexander was beautiful. Alexander was beautiful because of how _alive_ he was; he practically vibrated with energy, with emotion, with excitement. Whenever he was with Alexander, he felt hopelessly _drawn_ to him. It was like….it was like Alexander was the sun, burning endlessly and giving light to everyone around him, and John was a lifeless planet, not good for anything but orbiting around Alexander, again and again, just for the off-chance that Alexander might be kind enough to shine some of his light onto him.

“Hellooo? You ok?”

John’s head snapped up. “Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

Mattie laughed, a little nervously. “You sure?”

She fiddled with her dress, gathering it up in her hands and twisting it.

_Feeling nothing._

This was his shot. He couldn’t throw it away.

“Mattie,” John started, “I just realized that we’ve never actually kissed.”

Mattie blinked in surprise. “Of course we have.”

John shook his head. “Not really. Think about it.”

After a moment, she laughed. “Holy crap. You’re right. How the hell did that happen?”

John tried to echo her laughter, but it sounded a lot more like a cough.

“Wait,” she said, “you’ve kissed _someone_ before, though, right?”

Unbidden, Francis’s face flashed in his mind.

John felt like the walls were closing in on him. He shook his head and forced another laugh. “Nope.”

“Not _anyone?_ ”

“Yeah, uh,” John coughed. “Just never got around to it, I guess.”

Mattie’s lips drew up into a grin. “Well, there’s no time like the present.”

Mattie cupped John’s face in her hands. John felt himself become acutely aware of how much her palms were sweating.

She leaned in, but they bumped noses.

She chuckled. “No, come on, tilt your head.”

John jerkily tilted his head to the side, and Mattie’s lips pressed against his own. Her eyes fluttered closed. Should he do that too? That seemed right.

This didn’t feel like anything. Her lips were warm, and the lip gloss she had on was sticky. It was a little gross, if he was being honest.

He just needed to try harder.  

He slid his hands down to her waist and pulled her closer.

A bitten-off, choked noise sounded from a few feet behind him, like someone had been punched in the gut.

John broke away and whipped his head around.

A figure charged past him, their bag slung over their shoulder. The person whipped their green hood over their face and slammed the door open before bolting out into the street.

John would recognize that hoodie blindfolded.

He felt like he was going to melt into the floor.

“What’s his problem?” Mattie asked in a low voice, a little breathless.

John turned to face her again. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

Her expression changed from bemusement to panic in an instant. “Di-did you not like it?”

“No!” he shouted.

Mattie bit her lip, and looked on the verge of tears.

John sat there, frozen. He began to shake his head, his heart in his throat.

“No, I mean, I didn’t...I didn’t _not_ like it,” he backtracked, the words like ash in his mouth. “I mean, I liked it. A lot.”

The tension in her shoulders relaxed, and her smile began to come back. “Really?”

John looked at her expression, completely open and loving, and felt sick to his stomach. “Yeah. Yeah, it was great.”

 

* * *

 

_Knock._

Lafayette glanced up at the door. Maybe the person would just go away.

_Knock knock._

Oh well. Whoever it was would have to deal with Lafayette in the middle of their facial. Perhaps the person would run away screaming; that would certainly work out.

They strode over to the door and pulled it open. They blinked in surprise when they saw Alexander standing there, fist still raised to knock on the door.

“What the fuck is on your face?” Alexander asked after a beat.

“Whipped egg whites!”

Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why...why the fuck do you have egg whites on your face?”

Lafayette smiled. “Why don’t _you?”_

Alexander glared at them, and they noticed that his eyes were rimmed with red. “Can you let me in or what?”

Lafayette’s smile faded. They moved aside to let Alexander come into the apartment.

“Is everything alright, mon chou? I thought you had class right now.”

Alexander threw himself down on the couch, and Lafayette suppressed a wince. The bottle green color of his sweatshirt clashed disgustingly with the burgundy couch.

Alexander dragged his hands down his face. “Yup. Fine. It got cancelled, and, uh, Madison just had Jeffershit over and I, um...needed to go somewhere without bigoted assholes.” It sounded a lot more like a question than a statement, and from Alexander’s cringe, he knew it.  

Lafayette narrowed their eyebrows with some difficulty. “Are you sure that’s all that’s going on?”

Alexander dropped his backpack to the floor and turned over onto his stomach, smashing his face into Lafayette’s throw pillows.

“Yup,” he said again, his voice muffled. His shoes were still on, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Lafayette sat down in the armchair opposite the couch, pulling their legs up to their chest. “If you’re fine, why are you burying your face into my couch?”

Alexander groaned. “Because you look like the fucking abominable snowman, Laf, and my eyes can only deal with so much in one day.”

Lafayette regarded him with suspicion.

“Alex,” they said, a warning tone coloring the word.

Alexander’s shoulders tensed.

So they were right. This was one of those days.

They probably weren’t going to get anywhere with him right now. When Alexander got like this, it was extremely difficult to get him to talk.

“Would you like some hot chocolate?” Lafayette asked instead.

Alexander stayed silent for a moment. “Yeah,” he said finally. “That would be nice.”

 

* * *

 

Lafayette woke up slowly.

They heard faint noises coming from somewhere else in the apartment, but only snuggled deeper into their blankets. It was a big apartment building. There was always some level of noise leaking through the walls.

An ear splitting _bang_ reverberated through the floor, and Lafayette’s eyes shot open.

They sat up in bed, brain whirring to life.

They lived alone. But that noise had definitely come from inside their apartment.

Lafayette’s hand was halfway to the baseball bat they kept beside their bed when they remembered. They stumbled out of bed, half-tripping over their slippers. They dashed over to the guest room where Alexander was, wincing at each _boom_ of their footfalls.

“Petit lion?” they whispered when they reached the door. “Est-ce que tu vas bien?”

They pushed the door open and stumbled inside, blindly reaching their hands out in front of them.

“Mon chou?”

Lafayette felt around the bed, but found it both without a comforter and without Alexander.

“Alexandre?”

Lafayette heard a high whine come from the floor next to the bed. They felt around the floor and felt their fingertips make contact with the fluffy comforter.

“Frérot, es-tu tombé du lit?” they whispered.

They reached blindly for the bedside table, and upon finding the lamp, switched it on.

The room and Alexander’s face were thrown into harsh relief. The bags under his eyes were a deep eggplant color, and his mouth was set into a deep frown.

“Non,” he muttered, still asleep. “Arrête, s'il te plaît, ne me faites pas regarder…”

Lafayette sighed. Alexander had been getting much better with nightmares lately. But they supposed that they hadn’t honestly expected them to go away forever.

They smoothed Alexander’s hair back from his forehead.

“Alexandre,” they called, sing-song. “Tu dois te réveiller. Tout va bien. Tu vas bien.”

Alexander shook his head, tears somehow escaping his screwed-shut eyes. “Je ne peux...pas regarder ça une...une autre fois…”

“Watch what, petit lion? Tell me.”

Alexander only shook his head more. “No, te lo ruego, John, ¡para!”

Lafayette blinked in surprise. This was definitely…something new.

Lafayette shook Alexander’s shoulder. “Réveilles. Come on.”

Alexander’s eyes shot open, and he gasped like he was surfacing from deep water.

He gripped Lafayette’s arms like a vice and looked at them, unseeing.

“You’re fine,” Lafayette said soothingly. “Tu es en sécurité. We are in my apartment, you are on the floor because you fell out of bed.”

Alexander’s breathing only sped up.

Lafayette placed a hand on his shoulder.

 _“Respirer,_ frérot.”

Alexander took a gasping breath. And another. And another.

After a moment, his breathing began to slow down, and he let go of Lafayette’s arms like he had been burned.

He angrily wiped at his eyes when he realized he was crying.

“Is this about John?” Lafayette asked, keeping his voice as soft as possible.

Alexander’s throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously, obviously not expecting Lafayette to say that.

“How?” he croaked.

Lafayette shrugged. “I’ve told you before, petit. You talk in your sleep. Especially when you’re upset. What were you dreaming about?”

Alexander stared at his hands. “Just…just him. And, uh, you know. _Her.”_

“Martha?”

Alexander smashed his face into his palms, looking at Lafayette from in between his fingers. Lafayette couldn’t help but think that it looked like Alexander had put himself in his own personal prison.

“What about?” Lafayette asked.

Alexander tilted his head and looked at Lafayette like they were being an idiot. “What the fuck do you _think_ it was about?”

Lafayette let out a low whistle. That was...something else.

“You know,” Lafayette said tentatively, “you have two options here, petit.”

Alexander looked away. “Don’t.”

“You either confess your feelings for him-”

“Never, Laf, I’m never going to-”

“-and see if he feels the same, or you-”

_“Stop.”_

“-or, you get over him.”

Alexander made a hollow, painful sound from deep in his chest.

“And if I tell you I don’t know how?” he asked after a moment, in a quiet, almost childlike voice.

Lafayette smiled softly. A piece of Alexander’s hair was in his face, and Lafayette couldn’t stop themself from smoothing it behind his ear. “You are much stronger than you think, mon chou. You have proven that to everyone many times over.”

Alexander huffed in disbelief. He bit his lip and stared at his hands again, tracing the knuckles with his fingers.

“And if I tell you I’m in love with him?” he said, so quietly that Lafayette had to strain their ears to hear it.

 _“Chéri,”_ they said, their voice cracking.

They couldn’t help but feel more than a little responsible for Alexander. They were only a little older than him, but to Lafayette, Alexander would always be that small child who showed up at the Washingtons’ doorstep so many years ago. In this moment, he looked even younger than he usually did, and the utterly lost expression on his face made Lafayette’s heart ache.

Lafayette’s sympathy seemed to snap something in Alexander. His expression suddenly cleared, and he made as if to stand.

Lafayette sat back on their heels to give him room as he scrambled to his feet.

“Alex, do you want one of the-”

He shook his head sharply. “No, I’m...I’m ok. Thanks.”

“It might make you feel better.”

Alexander looked at them like they were an idiot. He began to gather up all his belongings from around the room. “It’ll make me go to sleep. I can’t sleep. Not anymore.”

Lafayette was at a loss. “Petit, you know that if you need _anything_ , I-“

“I came here yesterday, I slept over, didn’t I?” Alexander snapped. “I’ll be going now.”

“Alexander, it is 2:30 in the morning!”

Alexander stalked out of the bedroom and opened Lafayette’s coat closet. Lafayette helplessly trailed behind him. He grabbed his coat and threw it on, before picking his bag up again and heading toward the door.

Lafayette grabbed his arm. _“Alexander.”_

“What?” Alexander snapped. “What do you want?”

Lafayette chewed their lip and let go of his arm. “I just want to help you.”

“Yeah?” Alexander said, his lip curling in distaste.

Lafayette nodded fervently. _“Yes.”_

Alexander yanked the door open, his eyes burning holes into Lafayette’s own. “Then leave me alone.”

 

* * *

 

John woke up to seven unread messages, all from Lafayette.

 _(2:56 AM) baguette:_ Hi John, have you heard from Alexander?

 _(2:56 AM) baguette:_ he came by my apartment yesterday and left about 20 minutes ago

 _(2:56 AM) baguette:_ he was extremely upset

 _(2:56 AM) baguette:_ I can’t really tell you why

 _(2:57 AM) baguette:_ just

 _(2:57 AM) baguette:_ tell me if you hear from him

 _(2:58 AM) baguette:_ please

 _(9:45 AM) You:_ No I haven’t heard from him sorry

 _(9:45 AM) You:_ Is everything ok now?

 _(9:46 AM) baguette:_ merde

 _(9:46 AM) baguette:_ I am in class, could you please go and check up on him? I think he is in his dorm.

John dropped his phone onto his face in the middle of a reply.

“Fuck!”

He picked his phone up and winced as he rubbed his nose.

A low chuckle sounded from the other side of the room. “You alright there, Laurens?”

John blearily turned his head to see Burr sitting at his desk, smiling amusedly at him.

“Yeah, just…” he flapped his hands around.

“Just some early morning existential dread?” Burr asked.

John barked a laugh. “Something like that.”

He sat up with a groan, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He trudged past Burr to get to the bathroom, dutifully avoiding looking at himself in the mirror hanging on the wall.

John flicked the bathroom light on, wincing at its harshness. He reached for his toothbrush in the cup that sat on the edge of the sink, but it had disappeared.

He opened the cabinet behind the mirror and started to look through it. Nothing. He crouched down, his knees popping as he went, and started to rummage through the cabinet under the sink.

“Burr?” he called. “Did you move my toothbru-“

He stayed there, frozen, unable to look away from the half-empty box of condoms under the sink.

He heard Burr’s rapid footsteps from behind him. “Yeah, just don’t go in the-“

Burr skidded to a stop, and the two of them just stared at each other.

After a beat, John couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Do you have a secret girlfriend, Burr?”

Burr flushed. “Sort of.”

John’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Seriously?”

Burr nodded, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else.

John laughed, _really_ laughed, until he had one hand against the cabinet to hold him up. “Wow, look at you! Our little Casanova. Never would’ve thought you had it in you, Burr.”

Burr buried his face behind one hand, but John could see the hint of a smile forming on his lips. “Just...don’t tell anyone, ok?”

“Who is she?”

It took less than a second for Burr’s face to adopt its usual neutral expression. He let his hand drop to his side. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

John threw his hands up in acquiescence. He knew that he was going to get nowhere with Burr, but it was still fun to tease.

“Ok, ok! I’ll lay off. And I won’t tell a soul about your secret girlfriend that you go off to see in the middle of the night like Batman.”

Burr stalked off in the other direction.

“Hey, wait!” John called, still on the floor. “You never told me where you put my- and, he’s gone.”

He turned back to the cabinet and squinted inside it. He’d have to find his toothbrush by himself.

 

* * *

 

Who was he kidding? John had been doing everything humanly possible to avoid going to check up on Alexander.

Burr had been a wonderful distraction. And hey, now he had something neutral to talk about with Alexander.

Still, he milled around his dorm for as long as he could. But one essay and two and a half sketches later, he had nothing else to procrastinate with.

So he went to the on-campus Starbucks and ordered a large black coffee for Alexander. He got it decaf, though; Alexander never was able to tell the difference.

John made his way over to Alexander’s building, praying to God that he wouldn’t run into Mattie. He really, really couldn’t handle that right now.

He couldn’t help but let his mind wander as he walked, his feet automatically leading the way.

All he could see was Alexander rushing past him and out the library door. Had he seen John and Mattie kiss? But why would he care if he had? It wasn’t like Alexander felt the same way that John did. He always seemed disgruntled and upset whenever Lafayette did things like buy earrings or dresses. And he had dated Eliza Schuyler their freshman year, so he there was no way he could like boys.

A condescending voice from the back of his mind piped up. _Dipshit,_ you’re _dating a girl!_

Could Alexander have been faking it, trying to make himself normal, like John was with Mattie? It was far too much to hope.

Eliza and Alexander had been all over each other when they were dating. More than once, John had found various clothes and tubes of makeup scattered all around Alexander’s dorm, signaling that Eliza had been there. He’d even found a ratty-looking pink suitcase in Alexander’s closet, once, and had been stunned speechless when he realized that Eliza must have left it.

Whenever Alexander hung out with their group of friends, Eliza had been there, practically glued to his side. They had always been _touching_ each other, too, hands intertwined and ankles crossed and her face against his neck. They had always made John feel split between feeling envious of their loving, straight relationship and so jealous of Eliza that he wanted to cry.

John’s breaking point, though, had been the innuendos. The snide little comments and muttered jokes that everyone would make about _wow, Hamilton, how’d you manage to get one of the Schuyler sisters to put out for you?_

If he hadn’t been forced to learn that he had no choice but to change who he was and what he felt at a very young age, John wouldn’t have been able to handle everything with Alexander. He didn’t know what he would have done otherwise. He probably would have killed Alexander. Or Eliza. Or both of them.

At the very least, he would have had to avoid them at all costs. He would have had to minimize the amount of interactions he had with Eliza, but _especially_ with Alexander. John was almost grateful that he had a lot of experience in having to keep his mouth shut, having to watch the people he loved go off and love someone else. Because of that, he’d been able to plaster a smile on his face and act like nothing was wrong.

After the two of them broke up, John had gotten to know Eliza, and had found out that she was actually a really nice person.

John’s worst fear wasn’t that he’d be outed, or that Alexander would somehow find out that John liked him. His worst fear was one that only surfaced late at night, the only time he’d let himself indulge in thinking about things that could never happen. His worst fear was that someday, he _would_ get to be with Alexander, despite everything, but it would end with Alexander hating him because he wasn’t gay, not _really._ Not where it counted.

He didn’t even have the decency to be just gay. He had to have some obscure disorder that made him not want to have sex with _anyone._

But the person he really had to worry about with that was Mattie. Sooner or later, she’d try to take it too far, and John would have no choice but to go along with it. Just the thought made his chest feel tight and his stomach roil.

He was so lost in thought that he almost tripped over the steps outside Alexander’s building.

He cursed and grumbled and had to use every contortionist move he knew to save the coffee, and ended up relatively unscathed.

He swiped his ID card near the door and headed up the stairs.

Alexander would let him in. Wouldn’t he?

If not, John was monumentally screwed.

He made it to Alexander’s room and knocked on the door, but it drifted open under his touch.

He started to walk inside and saw Alexander sitting at his desk on the other side of the room, completely engrossed in his laptop’s screen.

“Hey,” John said. “I brought you coffee.”

Alexander didn’t move.

John walked over to the desk and placed the coffee down next to the computer. “Yo. Alex.”

No reaction.

John poked him in the shoulder, and he jumped. His head twitched to the side, and he stared at John’s shoes.

“Oh,” Alexander said in surprise. “How did you get in here?”

John sat down on the bed next to the desk and smiled. “The door was open?”

Alexander blinked belatedly like he hadn’t considered that as a possibility. His gaze moved from John’s feet to his fingers, resting on his knees. He stared at them long enough for John to feel self-conscious before abruptly turning back to his laptop.

“You should go,” Alexander said curtly, resuming his typing.

The smile slid off John’s face. He suddenly noticed that aside from the typing, Alexander wasn’t moving at all. His expression was blank, his feet sat flat on the floor. It was like the restless spirit John had come to know had been sucked out of him.

“Did I do something wrong?” John asked.

Alexander blinked rapidly, his hands stilling for a moment.

“I have a paper due in a few hours, I really need to get working on it,” he said.

John took a breath to argue, but Alexander had started typing at breakneck speed again.

“I want to talk to you,” John said.

“I _can’t,_ John.”

“Why not?”

Alexander lifted his hands off the keyboard, fingers twitching, before forcing them down again. He still wasn’t looking John in the eyes. “I can’t afford to be distracted, ok? Quite literally. There’s no way I’ll be able to pay for this class again, so I need to make sure I pass it the first time. I only have one chance to make a name for myself, and I can’t let you distract me from that.”

So Lafayette had been correct. Alexander didn’t act like this unless something was seriously wrong.

But there was no way he’d talk to John if he asked him outright.

“Come on,” John said, knowing full well how petulant he was sounding. “Let’s go somewhere. Let’s hang out and _do_ something.”

Alexander clenched his jaw in annoyance. “You need to go, John.”

John leaned in, trying to make eye contact. Alexander picked up his laptop and turned it so he was facing completely away from John.

“Why don’t you go see _Mattie?”_ Alexander said, spitting her name like it was poison. “I’m sure she’ll make you feel _loads_ better.”

John leaned as far back as he could go without falling over. He felt tension begin to gather in his muscles, his shoulders and knees rising, his hands moving in front of his body protectively.

And as Alexander started typing again, the realization hit him like a punch in the face.

Alexander _knew._

He _knew_ how John felt. He knew that John wasn’t in love with Mattie. And he hated him for it.

A painful lump began to form in his throat, but he knew he couldn’t leave until he was completely sure.

“Maybe I don’t want to see her,” he said, more than a little desperately.

Alexander made a sound that John supposed must have been a laugh, but it sounded full of indifference instead of humor. “Really? She stopped putting out for you already? I thought you had at least a couple more months before she got bored.”

John felt himself physically flinch away. Tears began to roll down his face, hot and thick.

“Why do you have to be so mean?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Just who I am, I guess.”

John laughed, more than a little hysterically. He vaguely realized that at some point, he had stood up.

“I can’t believe this,” he said. “I can’t believe that I _actually-“_

Alex was still staring at the screen, but he’d stopped typing.

“I think you should go,” Alexander said, his voice cracking on the last word.

John’s feet refused to move. “But-“

“Get out,” Alexander said quietly. John almost wished he had screamed.

John ran.

But he could have sworn he heard the beginnings of a sob come from inside the room, just before the door slammed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?  
> I know it was a bit disconnected, but I REALLY wanted to include the bit about Burr. It’ll be relevant later, I promise.
> 
> also: sorry for misgendering Vivek Shraya, @ anyone that listens to her music. But John, at this point, would.
> 
> A note to anyone who plans to write fic: formatting stuff on ao3 is a bITCH


	4. Relief Next to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate title for this chapter is: Justice for Eliza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw this picture of Philipa Soo and HAD to have Eliza wear a denim jacket: https://goo.gl/images/Hzm78w

_Shave and a haircut, two bits._

“One second!” Eliza called from inside the apartment.

After a moment, she flung the door open.

“Babe, I told you I was- oh. Hello.”

For the first time in months, Alexander only felt numb when he looked at his Eliza. No lurch in his chest. None of that inexplicable _magnetism_ , that almost painful, irresistible feeling that if he didn’t close every inch of space between them, he’d die.

His gaze fell, lifeless, refusing to even attempt to catch a glimpse of her lips.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared intently at her Doc Martens, following the pattern of embroidered roses with his gaze.

“Hi, Betsey.”

Eliza tsked at him, but halfheartedly, like it was a reflex. “I keep telling you not to call me that.”

He shrugged and tried to smile weakly, but the muscles in his face groaned in protest.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

He slowly lifted his eyes to her face. Eliza curled her lip, considering.

“Why?” asked Eliza, her eyes sharp.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said.

As soon as the door closed, he strode over to Eliza’s kitchen.

She trailed after him, an apprehensive look on her face.

“What’s going on.” It wasn’t a question.

He swallowed. No time like the present.

He grabbed her face with his hands, screwed his eyes shut, and captured her lips with his own.

In a split second, Alexander’s senses were overloaded with dozens of minute, random observations that he couldn’t control.

Eliza’s lips were just as full and pliable as they’d always been. Her hair was silky instead of soft like he wanted it to be, tumbling down her back instead of ending at her shoulders. Eliza tasted like the strawberry of her chapstick and something deeper, something rich and decadent and _sharp_ like...almost like whiskey. That was new. Since when did his Eliza drink whiskey?

This close, all he could smell was her perfume, her very _girly_ perfume. But all that was fine, it was ok, all Alexander needed to do was lose himself in the feeling of her. He just had to pretend like his hands were smoothing over tawny cheeks spattered with freckles instead of lush, ivory skin, pretend like Eliza tasted of the cinnamon gum John always carried in his pocket, smelled like the coconut oil John would scrunch in his hair every night to help get rid of all the matted knots.

He could make himself want this. He just needed to try harder.

Alexander pushed his tongue between his lips and started to lick into the warmth of her mouth when she shoved at his shoulders with a force he didn’t know she had.

He stumbled backwards, almost crashing into the kitchen table. Eliza grabbed him by the shirt collar and hoisted him up again, only to smack him across the face with a resounding _crack._

His head was thrown to the right, and he could’ve sworn he heard something in his spine pop. He slowly turned his head back to face her, wincing and clutching his jaw.

Even as stinging pain raced across his skin, all he could feel was how _frustrated_ he was. Why couldn’t she let him have this?

“What?” Alexander snapped. “You don’t want me to kiss you all of a sudden?”

That earned him another deafening _smack_ on the opposite side.

This time, he definitely heard something pop.

When he looked back at Eliza, she raised her hand in a threat, but he lifted his own to protect his face.

“Please stop with the smacking.”

“How about you stop with kissing me out of absolutely fucking _nowhere?”_ she said, her voice like steel. “Lafayette told me you’ve been having some shit going on, but that absolutely does _not_ excuse you acting like an entitled douchebag!”

He blinked in surprise. His Eliza never used to curse like that.

Eliza clenched her jaw, her nostrils dilating. _“‘Your Eliza’?_ Alex, do you want me to call the cops and have your ass thrown in jail for assaulting me? We may have been in love once, but I never belonged to you, and I _certainly_ don’t now.”

His mouth fell open, aghast. Had he said that out loud?

“And by the way,” continued Eliza, “I have a girlfriend. We’ve been dating for about a month now. Not that you bothered to ask.”

When his eyebrows shot into his hairline, an incredulous laugh punched out of her chest.

“You _seriously_ didn’t know?” she asked, looking at him like she wanted to smack him again. “You thought I was...what, helplessly pining after you this entire time? Never moving on, hanging on to all the poems and sonnets you wrote me when we first started dating, just waiting for you to come back? How big of an ego do you have? You know what- don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

Alexander took a breath and opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

The silence grew. She laughed again, a little hysterically this time. “Are you, um...are you actually speechless?”

He only looked at her.

Eliza’s incredulous expression changed to one of alarm. “Something’s really wrong, isn’t it?”

“I…” he looked away, blinking rapidly.

“What?” she asked, her voice considerably softer.

“I’m _sorry,”_ Alexander said, his voice cracking.

She stood there, biting her lip. After a moment, she turned and opened the closet in the hall, fishing out a worn denim jacket covered in patches.

“Let’s go to Starbucks,” she said, flipping her hair out of the jacket.

“What? Why?”

She turned to look at him, her heavy-lidded eyes regarding him dispassionately. “I can tell whatever you’re going to tell me is going to require a lot of caffeine. For both of us.”

She headed toward the door. After grabbing his scarf and coat, Alexander couldn’t help but follow, stumbling over his feet.

Something in Eliza had shifted. She seemed so different from the bubbly, shy girl he had fallen in love with. She seemed almost…grounded. More sure of herself. Like someone made of fire instead of someone who tended to flames.

Eliza pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall, but Alexander stopped short, one foot in the doorway.

Why hadn’t he noticed this before?

Right next to the door, placed on top of an ornately carved mahogany stool, was a large, burgundy vase, filled to the brim with geraniums. They were a strange deep red color, almost black, but with a core of bright scarlet shining past the outer petals. The sight was startling against the backdrop of Eliza’s apartment, filled with characteristic greens and blues. In theory, the reds should’ve clashed with everything else. But weirdly, it seemed to work.

He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

“Hey,” he called.

Eliza turned.

“You like red now?”

A smile flitted across her face. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

 

* * *

 

“You go sit down, Betsey. I’ll get the drinks.”

She snorted. “Now we’re being mister gallant?”

“Hey!” exclaimed Alexander. “I’m always gallant.”

“Ok, how about you take your gallantness and shove it up your-”

Alexander jumped back. “Ok, ok! Same order as always though, right? Big-ass latte with lots of sugar?”

Eliza made a face. “Nah. Get me the same as yours, no milk or cream or anything, but I still want the sugar.”

He gathered up all the remnants of energy he had and plastered a smile on his face.

“Sir yes sir,” he said, giving her a mock salute.

“Oh fuck off,” she said, but Alexander caught her grin.

She headed further into the store and Alexander went over to the counter.

“Two black coffees, please,” he said, unwinding the scarf Herc had made for him from around his neck.

“What size?”

“Uh…” Alexander drummed his fingers restlessly on the counter.

“Is the biggest one Grande?” he asked.

The cashier shook his head. “No, the largest size is Venti.”

Alexander blinked. “But that’s completely arbitrary. Grande means large or great in French _and_ Spanish. It’s a cognate of ‘grand’ in English, for Christ’s sake. How is ‘twenty’ bigger than ‘large’?”

The man looked two seconds away from reaching out and strangling Alexander with his bare hands. “I don’t make the sizes, ma’am. Would you like the Venti?”

It took him a second to realize.

His cheeks were definitely red from the cold. His lip was even redder from how he’d been worrying at it with his teeth. Sure, his chest was flat now, but you couldn’t tell unless you were looking. And who would take the time to actually _look_ _,_ who would be able to with all the layers he had on? He had thrown his hair up into a bun on top of his head on the way over because his hair was in his face, he hadn’t even stopped to consider how it would _look…_

“Ma’am? Is it going to be a Venti?”

“Yeah,” Alexander croaked, every inch of his skin feeling like it was on fire.

“Name?”

Alexander stared at his fingernails. “Publius.”

The cashier raised his eyebrows pointedly, but said nothing.

“That’ll be $5.12.”

Alexander threw the money at him and walked over to Eliza.

He yanked the hair tie out of his hair and pulled it back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, which he tucked into his shirt collar.

He sat down across from Eliza, who looked at him in alarm.

“What happened?”

Alexander fiddled with his hair tie self-consciously. “Uh, nothing.”

He needed to cut it. His bones ached at the very idea; he loved his hair. Peggy always made fun of him for how meticulous he was about taking care of it, the shelf in his shower stacked to the brim with the fanciest conditioners he was able to buy. Some of his best memories were of his mother braiding it into plaits, Lafayette smoothing it behind his ear, Eliza tugging on it jokingly whenever he made fun of something she said. And memories of things that hadn’t happened yet, half-formed in the deepest parts of his imagination: John raking his fingers through it, John fisting his hands in it to draw him closer as they kissed, John-

“Alexander.”

“What? Oh.”

He debated for a split second whether to lie.

But he was fed up with lying. No more. He didn’t have the energy left.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled. “The cashier just called me ma’am. It just- it just hasn’t happened in months.”

Eliza straightened. She leaned in close to him and whispered, “You want me to call him out? Or punch him? Mariah’s been teaching me how to punch without hurting myself, I could do it no problem-”

“What? No! No, I don’t want you to do anything, don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

“It’s _not_ fine!” exclaimed Eliza.

Alexander shushed her, glancing around the store. “I don’t want to make a big deal about it.”

 _“You_ don’t want to make a big deal about it?” Eliza asked, her voice rising in volume. _“You_ don’t want to make a big deal about it? Are you kidding?”

“Eliza!” he shouted, his voice equally loud. Everyone in the store was staring at them now.

“Eliza,” he said, lowering his voice considerably. “Don’t you want to save your shouting for when I tell you how much of a dumbass I’ve been?”

She looked extremely conflicted, but nodded.

“Ok. Spill.”

Alexander sighed. “So, um…”

“Two venti coffees for Paula?”

It took all of Alexander’s willpower to keep from slamming his head against the table.

“That’s not for you.”

Alexander grimaced. “Oh no, trust me, it is.”

He dashed over to the counter and pushed past the small crowd of people there. He grabbed the coffees, dutifully avoiding eye contact with the cashier.

When he got back to the table, Eliza was on the phone.

“...no, babe, it’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t even worry about it.”

She paused, listening.

“I love you too. I’ll tell you later, ok? Bye, love.”

Alexander sat back down, drinks in hand. “Was that the girlfriend?”

Eliza’s face broke out into a grin like she couldn’t help it, her very features bursting at the seams with happiness. Alexander had to look away.

“So, uh, back to my existential crisis, right?”

The smile slid off her face, and she nodded.

Alexander chugged his coffee before responding.

“I’m in love with John,” he blurted. The words started to flood out of his mouth with remarkable speed, and he knew he couldn’t stop them at this point, even if he wanted to. “And we go to the mall with Laf and he gets _earrings._ So I’m like, ok, he has to be a little not straight, right? And I went to the library when my class was canceled, you know, that PoliSci one I keep talking about? And I see the two of them kiss, and I’m like _holy fucking shit he’s actually straight._ And even if he’s not, he’s taken. He pulled her closer. I _saw_ it, and, and it was like my heart just _broke_. And then I went over to Laf’s but didn’t tell them what happened, and I had a shit ton of nightmares about it, and I left in the middle of the night, and started working on shit that isn’t due for months in my dorm, and then John came over and I screamed at him and made him leave because I just- I just _couldn’t_ ok?”

Eliza stared at him, wide-eyed.

After a beat, she spoke up. “That’s it, though?”

Alexander’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “What the hell do you mean _that’s it?”_

Eliza took a deep sip of her coffee. “This sounds easily fixed. I just don’t get why you showed up at my house and tried to kiss me like a lunatic.”

Oh. Right.

Not his proudest moment.

Alexander scratched the back of his neck. “Laf...told me to move on? If I wasn’t going to confess? I didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like I can go out and have a one night stand without a legitimate fear of being murdered. ”

Eliza set her jaw and glared at him, her nostrils flaring. The emotion behind her expression seemed to be a battle of anger and sympathy; if they were still dating, he would’ve been the recipient of several _oh, honey_ s by now.

“Well,” she started, her voice stilted. “I’m glad you didn’t go have a one night stand. You’d regret that even more. But how the fuck is _this,”_ she gestured between them, “moving on? That’s just trying to- to crawl back to a perfect happiness that never existed, Alex, and you know it.”

Alexander pulled the thermos with the rest of his emergency coffee out of his bag and downed it.

He wanted to come up with some grand excuse, but looking at the hardness in Eliza’s eyes, he knew he’d never get away with it.

“Yeah, I know. That was a shithead move.”

“You need to talk to John.”

Alexander’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Alexander. You do.”

He swallowed nervously. He knew he needed to make this right. But he didn’t know how. And he _hated_ not knowing how to do something. It made him feel tiny and small and unimportant.

“How?” he choked out.

Eliza leaned forward, her forearms on the table. “You go find him. You tell him you’re sorry for being a dick. And if you can, you tell him how you feel.”

“But-”

She shook her head with an air of finality. “That’s it.”

He sighed.

Eliza nudged his arm.

“Come on,” she said, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Go get your man.”

Alexander sat there for a moment, taking her in. Eliza had truly come into her own. Maybe he had, too- maybe they were never meant to be together. Not like that. Eliza would always hold a special place in his heart, but he couldn’t help but admit that they seemed to be better off as friends.

“I still meet you in every dream, Betsey,” he said, pulling his scarf back on.

Eliza shook her head, her eyes only slightly sad. “No. You don’t. You never have.”

 

* * *

 

_Shave and a haircut, two bits._

Alexander waited in the hall, fidgeting. Should he knock again?

A faint “come in” sounded from deep inside.

Alexander turned the knob and pushed the door open.

At first glance, the room appeared to be empty.

“John?” Alexander called.

A small noise came from Alexander’s right. He turned to see a large, fluffy blanket resting in a large mound on top of the comforter. He squinted at it and saw the faintest hint of tan skin peeking out from the fold.

“John?”

John opened the blanket. Alexander shuddered at the blotchiness of John’s face. His eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks glistening with wiped away tears. His chest and throat kept caving in rhythmically like he was holding back sobs. But despite it all, he still stuck his chin out defiantly. His Laurens, fighting the whole world all by himself.

Alexander knew John probably didn’t want to be hugged right now. But the urge was so strong that he had to clasp his hands behind his back to stop himself.

“John, I-”

“What do you want?” John asked, his voice hoarse and throaty.

Alexander swallowed nervously. For the second time that day, he was at a loss for words.

“I- I don’t know what’s going on with us,” said Alexander, “but can...can we just stop? Can we be...friends? Friends again?”

John furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before sagging back into the bed.

“You don’t have to pretend. I know you know,” John said, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

Alexander froze. “I…what?”

“And I get it you never want to see me again,” John said, blinking rapidly. “Just...please don’t tell anyone.”

Alexander forced himself to walk slowly over to John, when all he wanted to do was throw himself into his arms.

He made as if to sit next to John on the bed. When his hand touched the comforter, John flinched, almost imperceptibly, like he was trying to hide it.

Alexander sat on Burr’s bed instead.

“John.”

John’s throat bobbed. He pressed the blanket against his mouth in a strangely childlike gesture.

“I’m going to say this clearly and slowly, because I want to make sure you get it.”

John’s eyes darted to the door.

Alexander felt the panic rise in his chest like a crescendo.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alexander half-screamed. “I- I don’t ‘know’ anything, and I absolutely don’t want to stop hanging out with you. I mean- I mean, I understand if that’s what _you_ want, but I- I just...”

His voice trailed off.

John’s face was like stone.

“Just stop it,” John pleaded, his voice cracking. “What more do you want from me?”

Alexander’s words all tried to burst out of his mouth at once. “I- what- what do- what do _I_ want…?”

John whipped his head up to look Alexander in the face, his features suddenly filled with so much rage that Alexander actually leaned away. “Seriously? You’re that sadistic? You can’t just leave me alone?”

Alexander was shaking his head before John even finished speaking. “John, I don’t-”

John threw the blanket off his shoulders and leapt off the bed, planting his feet in a protective stance in front of where Alex was sitting.

“What?” he spat. “What do you want? You want me to say it?”

Alexander felt like crying. “John, please, I don’t know what-”

“Fine, jackass. You want me to say it?” John spread his arms wide, a hysterical smile on his face. “I’m a fag. Fairy boy. Absolute disappointment. Take your pick of the titles. I know it, you know it. Mattie doesn’t know it, but I’m sure she will soon, if you have anything to do with it. My father _definitely_ knows it, but I’m _sure_ you know all about him.”

Alexander jumped to his feet and grabbed John by the shoulders. “John.”

John pushed his hands off.

“Get the fuck away from me,” he said, his voice bordering on shrill.

Alexander stood his ground and stared unblinkingly into John’s eyes. They were more dilated than Alexander had ever seen, the amber nearly swallowed up by black.

Even though Alexander’s brain dimly took note of the muscles in John’s arms, the tension coiled in his frame, the fact that John could probably throw him across the room if he wanted to, all he could think about was John pressing the blanket against his lips. John shyly showing off his pierced ears. John’s smile, real and true and so _young._ They were about the same age, but Alexander felt so much older than John. Alexander had seen so much of the world, so much pain in his short life, and all he wanted to do was protect John from all of it.

As John’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white, all Alexander could look at was the way he was chewing at his lip.

“Oh querido,” he said sadly, before he could stop himself. “You look so scared.”

The muscles in John’s jaw twitched. _“Don’t_ make fun of me.”

Alexander shook his head violently. “I am _not_ making fun of you.”

John’s gaze flitted between Alexander’s eyes for a long moment before relaxing his shoulders.

“Then what are you doing?”

“I…”

John raised an eyebrow.

“I wanted to apologize,” Alex said. “I- I treated you like shit when you came over to my room, and I _did_ have a lot of work to do, but that’s no excuse for treating you that way, you’re _wonderful,_ and you don’t deserve that, and the only reason I did it was because-”

John’s expression fell slack.

“What?” he breathed.

Alexander opened his mouth and after a moment, closed it again.

So John was gay. An adjective meaning of, relating to, or characterized by a tendency to direct sexual desire toward another of the same sex. As in guys. Cis guys.

There was no way John would like him back when he found out.

Alexander coughed. “Uh, because, I um...I was really frustrated. I have a really long paper due for Van Ness’s class and Jefferson’s been giving me shit about it, and it all kind of came to a head.”

“Oh,” John said.

Did John look...disappointed?

No. There was no way.

“I really don’t care if you’re gay, John,” he said softly. “I’m sure you know Laf’s not straight, and t- he’s like my family. Also, uh, I was just at Eliza’s, and she actually has a girlfriend now.”

John let out what must’ve been a chuckle, but it sounded more like a cough. “You’re kidding.”

Alexander shook his head.

John laughed again, this one sounding slightly more real. “You’re telling me you dated a dyke and didn’t know it? You should join a club with Mattie.”

_(He elbowed the girl in the stomach, the walls closing in on him, the hallway elongating as he ran toward the door._

_“Fucking dyke bitch!”_

_The slamming of the door echoed in his skull the entire way over to Herc’s house, where Lafayette was waiting.)_

Alexander made a choked noise. “Uh…”

He couldn’t say anything. He was lucky enough that John hadn’t kicked him out of the dorm or punched him in the face.

This was the best it was going to get.

Alexander blinked hard and sat back down onto Burr’s bed. “You wanna watch Amadeus? It’ll make you feel like your problems are way more insignificant than they are. Salieri’s slowly overwhelming insanity has that effect.”

John blinked. “Uh, yeah. That sounds...good.”

John sat back down onto his blanket pile and scooted over, leaving room for Alexander on the bed.

Alexander’s heart swelled in his chest as he sat down next to him.

They weren’t touching, but their shoulders were less than an inch apart.

”Alex,” John started. “You’re not going to...tell her?”

Alexander shook his head vehemently. “I’d never do that to you, John. I promise.”

John regarded him for a moment before nodding. “Ok. I, uh...I trust you.”

A smile broke out on Alexander’s face. “I’m glad.”

As John grabbed his laptop from his nightstand and opened Amazon Prime, Alexander leaned in slightly. Just to get a whiff of the coconut oil. The scent of it made all the muscles in his body relax. He was able to resist the urge to grab John’s hand, millimeters away from his own.

Alexander could make himself forget how much he loved John. With enough time, he could forget how John would never love him back, too. This was enough.

It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry? I guess? But it’s so important to remember that as outspoken and argumentative Alexander is, he’s extremely wary about sharing any information about himself. (EG: no one knows the actual year historical AHam was born because he lied about it to fit in. Also, he only published the Reynolds Pamphlet to defend his reputation from rumors of embezzlement, NOT to admit to his affair because he thought it was wrong). They’re all just so complex characters and I love exploring it? Ugh. Please tell me what you thought in the comments!!!!
> 
> -
> 
> And Marliza is the best thing in the entire world, ok?


End file.
